Marauders of the Gathering Storm
by Golden Moon Huntress
Summary: Rhaella Targaryen gave birth not to one baby girl on Dragonstone but to triplets, a boy and two girls who walked and flew this world once before and were not named conquerors for nothing.
1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note**

I do not own Game of Thrones.

This is the sequel to We the Fallen. If you haven't read that, I would strongly advise reading it first, although you might be able to pick up here.

* * *

They emerged unscathed from the ashes of the inferno. The flames seemed not to have touched their pale skin and instead danced in their purple eyes. To their skin clung three dragons, creatures no one had seen living in over a hundred years, and their song lit up the night.

The Dothraki called them Dragonborn, children of the fire.

Only once were they called Maegi.

Once was enough to know they did not appreciate that.

It was not the first time a foreigner had become a Khal, but it was the first they had a Khalasar so large, just over twenty five thousand strong. Some had left during the inferno, breaking into their own Khalasars; yet others had been killed during the fighting, but just over half remained, and those that did were loyal.

They seemed to have wisdom beyond their years, a vast intelligence in their eyes, leading with a firm and harsh authority normally seen from those with decades of experience, not barely grown babes of barely seventeen.

They rode with their dragons, the little creatures perched on their shoulders or arms or clinging to their waists. None wanted to challenge one with a dragon for a bloodrider. The smaller Khalasar they came across agreed to peace and gave them two hundred slaves as a gift of goodwill. They would be sold, along with the other slaves of the Khalasar, in exchange for money, for food, for goods, for ships.

Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-wives were riding towards home.


	2. I: Under the Wayward Sun

It was with a little difficulty that they convinced Drogo's bloodriders, Qotho, Haggo and Cohollo, that Visenya was not to be taken back to Vaes Dothrak to join the Dosh Khaleen.

"She is Dragonborn now," they argued, claiming the name the Dothraki had bestowed upon them. "She is a daughter of the sky and flames. What right do the Dosh Khaleen have to her?"

Qotho was the first to acknowledge it was true, but also that he still must do his duty and ride to the Night Lands to join his Khal and the blood of his blood.

Haggo and Cohollo followed.

None tried to stop them. It was not their way to interfere in the beliefs of others. Aegon chose new bloodriders, Kovarro and Aggo, as was expected of him. Visenya and Rhaenys too chose bloodriders, Jhogo and Rakharo, which was not expected, but none protested.

* * *

When she slept, Visenya dreamt of two great stags, bigger than mountains, bigger than Balerion, one made of ice and the other of fire, locking antlers and battling desperately for superiority.

When he slept, Aegon dreamt of a flock of crows flying into a snowstorm, ice lining their wings.

When she slept, Rhaenys dreamt of a little black wolf in a pit with a lion and a bear while a mountain loomed over them all.

* * *

They argued, a rare thing for the three of them, over what to name their dragons.

Of all things to fight over.

Rhaenys wanted to name her cream and gold Meraxes, to honour her old friend and bonded.

Aegon argued that their old dragons were long dead and to give these their names would be disrespect to their memories.

Visenya had already named hers Drogar and refused to change it.

"We came back," said Rhaenys. "Why couldn't they?"

It was true, the dragons did seem… strangely familiar with them. As if they knew them. Remembered them.

"We don't know what brought us back, or whether the same thing could bring them back, or even if they'd know!"

"Having their true names would help them know."

"New names for a new life," said Visenya absently, offering a piece of meat to Drogar. She snapped it up.

"But we didn't keep our new names! I want to honour her. And it will scare our enemies."

"I don't think ice monsters will respect the names," murmured Visenya dryly, feeding Drogar another chunk of meat. Aegon frowned at her.

"You're not helping."

"Meraxes was more than my dragon and bonded; she was my friend! Were yours not?"

"Of course. But that's why I will not name this one Balerion. If he has returned like we have, he'll tell me in time, and then I'll decide what to do. But for now, Balerion, Vhagar, Meraxes, they belong to a time long past Rhaenys. And the names, they hurt."

"I-"

"Name her what you will Rhaenys, but do not ask of us to do the same. And know this, every time I hear Meraxes's name, I don't see her flying. I see her corpse with an arrow through the eye and her skull in the middle of the throne room."

* * *

That night, Rhaenys declared her dragon was to be called Starflame.

* * *

It took several weeks for Aegon to decide upon a name for his. Rhaenys's argument had awoken memories from a time long past, and every time he thought about naming he thought about Balerion, about flying on his back and the wind in his hair.

He thought he would never do that again.

And the more he thought about it the more familiar the little dragon seemed, until he was getting them mixed up in his head and memories.

Five weeks after their hatching he named his dragon Jaedos**.**

Summer.

* * *

When they slept Visenya saw the fiery stag drive its antlers through its opponent.

When they slept Aegon saw the crows feasting on frozen meat while a black dragon smaller than Jaedos huddled against the snow.

While they slept Rhaenys saw a little red wolf huddling amongst a field of wheat while lions prowled.

* * *

They fought again, with more passion and frustration, over their relationship and, more specifically, the defining of it.

This time the sisters were united and it was Aegon who stood alone, yet it would be him that won.

"We should make our marriage official again," Rhaenys had said one sleepy morning, and that was the trigger.

The smallest stone could start a landslide.

"Not now."

Rhaenys lifted her head from his chest. They stayed all together in the tent-hut, often taking it in shifts to sleep while their bloodriders guarded the outside.

"What's that meant to mean?"

"It means not now."

"But you are our husband Aegon. Surely you want to confirm it again?"

"I do. And if we survive this, I will. But now is not the time."

"Don't we get a say in this?" asked Visenya.

"You're free to marry each other if you wish," Aegon replied. "But I won't marry you, nor have sex with you, until our dragons are grown, Dragonstone is ours again, and the ice monsters are defeated."

"Aegon…" whined Rhaenys.

"My decision is made."

"What of our feelings? I don't want to die again unmarried to my husband," Visenya snapped.

"We married once sweet-sister. We're married now in all but name to these people. But I'll wed you on Dragonstone, and Dragonstone alone."

His decision stood.


	3. II: The Shadow of Tomorrow

**Author's Note**

I do not own Game of Thrones.

A big thank you to all those who have favourited and followed!

* * *

They rode west for Astapor. There they could sell their slaves and buy ships to take their Khalasar across the narrow sea.

The Dothraki called it the poison water. They feared it, for the horses could not ride through it and nor could they drink it. There were whispers, rumours.

"How do we know you will not lead us to our deaths?" demanded Zigano, a large man with a long braid and many supporters. "The black water will kill the horses!"

"Horses have crossed the narrow sea before and they will again," Aegon replied. "And there are plenty more horses on the other side that can be added to the herd."

"It is death!"

"Is fire not death?" Visenya asked.

"Yes, yet you witches walked out of it! Why should we follow you?"

A few men growled agreements. Drogar hissed from Visenya's shoulder.

"Aye! You are not even Dothraki! You married our Khal and then you killed him!"

"No. I am Dragonblood. I sailed across the sea once, when I was no more than a babe, and I didn't fear it then. Do you have more fear than a babe?"

Scattered laughter came from the gathered crowd. Zigano drew his arakh. Aegon drew Blackfyre, the valyrian steel glinting in the light.

"You mock me."

"And I call you a coward. What will you do about it coward?"

He roared and charged at them.

They rather expected that.

Aegon sprang to meet him, Jaedos screeching, but Visenya got there sooner, drawing her own blade and dodging easily around the bigger man.

Being smaller than they once were did have some advantages.

She lashed out as he charged again, slashing a deep cut down his chest and then striking at his knees as he missed her again. Zigano crashed to the ground. Visenya circled around him, swinging her sword from one hand.

"Sister-dear, don't play with your prey," Aegon complained. Visenya flashed him her teeth and Drogar hissed.

"But I want to!"

"End it or I'll end it."

Visenya scowled and drove her sword through Zigano's throat. His corpse fell to the ground.

"Happy now?"

"Very." Aegon glanced around at their gathered Khalasar. "Does anyone else want to challenge us?"

None did. The Dothraki respected strength, and they were the ones that walked from an inferno with dragons at their sides. Zigano had been the ko of the distrust and doubt, and while there would be other challenges other day, they did not come that day, nor the next.

Aegon would take the next challenge himself.

* * *

When she slept at night Rhaenys dreamt of the great kraken rising from the depths of the foam tipped sea.

When he slept at night Aegon dreamt of a dragon trapped in a cage made of ice.

When she slept at night Visenya dreamt of a lion cub alone in a sea of red sand.

(and all three of them saw the ice slowly creeping closer)

* * *

They arrived in Astapor when their dragons were just over half a year old.

Along with Yunkai and Meereen, it had once been part of the Old Empire of Ghis, which was conquered as part of the Valyrian freehold. Even in the time before they had never been. Built of red brick, it had very few visible physical defences.

They could hardly help weighing up how easy it would be to conquer.

The Dothraki, however, were wary, whispering of the demon soldiers guarding what few defences the city did have and drilling outside under the burning sun. The Three Dragons recognised the armour and weaponry as Unsullied, remembering Illyrio had some in his possession at his manse in Pentos, fat and well indulged, but well disciplined and trained all the same.

Perhaps they ought to obtain some.

The Dothraki were fearsome on the battlefield, but they were also wild, violent, and unpredictable.

The Unsullied were military foot soldiers, well trained, obedient.

What would fare better against monsters made of magic and ice and blood Visenya wondered. Aegon glanced at her and knew her thoughts. "We don't have anything to pay with."

Even now those words felt odd. Once upon a time he had dressed his sisters in silk and gold and precious stones, anything and everything they wanted. For Visenya it was usually fighting leathers, for Rhaenys silk and lace and stones that glittered like the sun.

He couldn't give them any of those things now.

Perhaps he never would.

They had a new enemy now, a new war to fight.

They would see home again, if they could, but after that…

They could see the past, but not the future.

* * *

The Good Masters welcomed them openly, though they were ill prepared for the pale skinned, purple eyed Khal with a dragon upon his shoulder and the two silver-gold haired young women at his side with dragons of their own. A small boy translated their bastard Valyrian words into Dothraki.

The Targaryens did not correct their assumption.

People, especially the rich and arrogant, were often more likely to talk when they thought those listening couldn't understand.

"The Good Masters welcome you to the city of Astapor. They say you are welcomed here and invited to feast with them, though your Khalasar will have to remain outside the city walls, as is usual," said the young boy, a very liberal translation of what had actually been said.

"The Khalasar will need to eat too," Aegon said. The boy repeated in in High Valyrian for the Masters. One of them laughed.

"Tell this ignorant foreign Khal his Khalasar can eat their own food. If they don't have enough they can go hungry."

"The good master says Astapor does not have enough food to spare to feed so many."

"Then tell your master I expect them to spare what they can. My Khalasar has travelled for many cycles of the moon. They are hungry for food that is not horsemeat or grass."

The boy translated. One of the masters waved his hand. "Tell this Beggar King I'll give his Khalasar wine, bread, and pork. And that only because I like the curve of his bedslaves."

Aegon flushed with anger and it took Rhaenys's hand on his shoulder to remind him he wasn't meant to understand.

"My Master says he will give wine, bread, and pork because he is good and generous."

Rhaenys squeezed Aegon's shoulder. "Tell him we are grateful and let him know our dragons need meat. Pork or beef."

And so it was they were invited in to Astapor.


	4. III: Embers on the Wind

**Author's Note**

I do not own Game of Thrones.

* * *

Astapor was a hot, dry city filled with red dust from the crumbling walls and buildings. The freeborn women wore veils over their faces to protect from it. While many seemed to see only the Dothraki garb, Aegon saw many of the slaves and children bowing down to the dragons as they passed.

The dragons and their riders had destroyed Old Ghis, and even if the Good Masters didn't remember, it seemed many here still did.

Unsullied were stationed at every gate of the city and stood outside the large, ornate doors to the great feasting hall. The Good Masters grumbled that the hall was a place for civilised nobles, not bloodthirsty beasts, but their dragons ate with them all the same.

It was certainly a more civilised affair than dining with the Dothraki. Slaves drowned in golden silk and jewellery like Aegon wanted to gift to his precious sisters played silver instruments, while others brought fine foods and wines. Shortly after the meal started, a small group of beautiful, scantily clad young women were brought out to dance and sing.

"Ask the Westerosi Khal if he wants any of them to fuck."

"My Master asks if you like the entertainment," said the small boy translator.

"It is adequate," Aegon replied.

"Perhaps the sunset savage would care to visit the folly tomorrow evening," said one of the others.

"It would be more to their tastes," murmured the finely dressed woman at his side.

"My Master asks if you would care to attend the great folly at Douquor's pit tomorrow," said the boy. Aegon raised an eyebrow.

"Tell our hosts we wouldn't miss it."

The conversation then inevitably turned to bargains and economics.

"My Master asks how many slaves you bring," said a tall, dark skinned girl, the translator for another of the men.

"Somewhere in the number of ten thousand."

"Tell the little boy we shan't pay until we see what state these slaves are in," her Master replied after being told. That was fair, and Aegon agreed readily.

"I want ships," he said. She translated and her Master roared with laughter.

"This fool boy and his little bitches think they can make the Dothraki sail!" he cackled to the other Masters, who laughed with him.

Visenya squeezed Aegon's leg under the table as his hand itched towards Blackfyre.

"Tell this fool of a foreigner that his Khalasar will sooner slaughter him and his cursed wives than they will set foot on a ship!"

"My Master kindly points out that the Dothraki do not like to sail," translated the girl, which was a very liberal translation indeed.

"They will for us," Aegon replied.

"How many ships do we need?" Rhaenys asked softly.

"Two hundred, at least," Aegon replied. "Assuming more than a hundred men to each ship."

And he still wanted some Unsullied.

Some days he wondered if it might be easier to give up. They could stay here with the Dothraki in Essos, safe. They had respect, they had their dragons, they had no need for conquest.

They had done that once already.

They could sell the slaves here and buy only one ship, sail back to Braavos and live in luxury for the rest of their lives while people worshiped their dragons.

Except-

That wasn't their way.

They were creatures of fire and blood, magic and myth and war, meant for battle, meant for protection.

And they must be here for a reason.

So he smiled, and he ate the Good Master's food, and he thought of a time long passed.

* * *

When she slept Visenya saw the fiery stag drowning in green water too deep for even it to hold its great head above.

When he slept Aegon saw the tiny black dragon tear into a crow and devour its flesh while the red blood stained the frozen snow they lay in.

When she slept Rhaenys saw two tiny wolf cubs huddled in stony darkness while a raven waited in the shadows.

(and they all saw the dead rise and men made of ice sat atop horses twenty feet high; giant spiders that crawled over the ice on legs as thick as their neck; and the ice, the ice that crept ever closer, the black clouds that blotted out the sun, blue eyes glowing in the darkness and cold, cold so bad it bit their bones and they felt it even in their sleep)

They woke shivering.

* * *

The main producer of the Unsullied was the owner of the tall female translator from the night before, Kraznys mo Nakloz. Aegon requested a meeting with him. He offered them twenty strong horses in place of the forty strongest slave boys under the age of six in their possession.

It would be a tempting offer for most Dothraki Khals.

Aegon Targaryen was not most Khals.

"We need ships, not horses."

"Remind this ignorant fool the Dothraki will never sail."

"My Master wishes this one to remind you the Dothraki do not trust the sea."

"They have us to rely on."

They were led through the city to a gateway leading to a small courtyard. Unsullied stood guard above it. Inside the courtyard, more were lined up in neat columns.

"My Unsullied have stood here for a day and a night with no food or water. They will stand until they die if I order it."

His translator turned 'die' into 'drop' and left out the past about the orders.

"Such is their obedience."

Obedience was good, but how well would they fare against ice monsters?

"Tell us about their training."

"The Khal seems interested, but speaks no praise to keep the price down. He wishes to know how they are trained."

"Tell him what he would know and be quick about it."

They climbed onto a dais at the head of the courtyard.

"The day is hot."

"They begin their training at five. Every day they drill from dawn to dusk until they have mastered the shortsword, the shield, and the three spears. Only one boy in four survives this rigorous training. Their discipline and loyalty are absolute. They fear nothing."

That could certainly be an advantage. Visenya stepped down from the dais and walked over to one of the front soldiers. Drogar hissed and snarled from her shoulder. He never flinched. She circled between the ranks, fearless, predatory.

"They fear little enough," she commented as Drogar puffed out smoke into one's face. "How are they commanded?"

"They obey their Master's every command. If they displease you, they will obey the whip."

Aegon winced. "How many do you have to sell?"

Kraznys held up eight fingers.

"Eight thousand," said his translator.

"Tell the Dothraki savage he has until tomorrow."

The girl translated that as 'Master Kraznys asks that you please hurry. Many other buyers are interested."

Which Aegon supposed was an acceptable translation.

He wondered how much it would cost to buy her too and free her from this living hell.

But then what for her?

If she travelled with them she would be going from one hell to another; even if she had a home to go to she might still be raided and taken as a slave again – or worse.

She could do worse than working as a translator.


	5. IV: Blood and Blade

**Author's Note**

I do not own Game of Thrones.

* * *

Douquor's pit was dug deep into the ground, filled with sand and built of red brick like everything else in Astapor. The red dust of the city was mixed into the sand. As honoured guests, the Targaryens were of course to sit in one of the high balconies with the good Masters. A half dozen slaves milled about bringing food and serving wine.

For the first show a tall, scrawny teenager wearing only a red loincloth was led into the pit and given a wooden spear.

"My Master asks if you want to lay a bet," said the dark skinned translator. Aegon frowned.

"On what?"

"How long he will be able to fight," she replied.

Four larger, burlier slaves wrestled a huge black bull into the ring. It bellowed fury and rage.

"Ten gold pieces on five minutes!" shouted one of the masters from behind them. Visenya leant back in her seat.

"This seems like terrible entertainment, and we've seen Dothraki standards."

Drogar hissed softly from her shoulder. Jaedor growled in agreement. Rhaenys shifted in place.

"They're not actually going to make him fight that thing are they?"

They were.

The boy dodged around the ring, avoiding the bull as it roared and charged him. His wooden spear clattered against the thing's horns. The Astapori seemed to find it great entertainment, cheering and roaring to urge the fight on. The boy ducked low to the sand and stabbed at the beast's belly with his wooden spear, only for it to break in half.

Rhaenys covered her face with her hands.

After all the things she had seen.

All she could see now was her falling.

The bull trampled the boy underfoot.

Their dragons snarled and hissed, hungry for the blood and meat. Aegon stroked Jaedos's head to calm him.

"I don't think the Dothraki savages appreciate our entertainment," said one of the Masters.

"My Master asks if you like the entertainment," said his translator.

"It's fine," replied Visenya.

It probably was her sort of thing.

Next up was a more entertaining match between four trained and armed fighters and one unsullied soldier. Aegon had no doubt that had been put on as a show for them.

They were good soldiers, well trained, disciplined soldiers.

But...

But-

When he conquered Westeros (the first time, the time before now, when he was him but not him), he had under two thousand men. They followed him, fought for him, because they loved him, believed in him. Not because they had been raised to obey and his hand was the hand that held the whip.

But...

But-

He still needed men.

They needed men.

The ice monsters were coming, whether Westeros was ready for them or not, and if they weren't stopped their storm would sweep across the seas.

It would be the end of man, as the valyrian scrolls they once read in the time before now (when they were them but not them) had claimed, as Torrhen had always said.

Aegon never knew whether to believe in Torrhen's so-called Others, never gave enough credence to the Night's Watch and their duty. He regretted that now. He should have listened instead of dismissing it as Northern fairytales.

Aegon always expected the prophesied coming storm and doom of man to be something man-made, man-caused, not monsters made of death and ice.

"What do you think?" Visenya whispered in Dothraki.

"They're good soldiers."

"And..?"

"And we should think about buying some."

"I thought we were already thinking about buying some."

"We were. But we need ships too."

More ships than they had money for.

Three small boys were led into the arena. The oldest looked about eight, the smallest maybe three, his face red from screaming and dirty from crying. Six more slaves entered with large pails.

"Would the Dothraki savages like to lay a bet?"

"The good master wishes to know if you would make a bet," said the translator.

"On what?" asked Rhaenys.

"Which one the tiger will eat first."

"What?"

"One will be rolled in horse blood, one in pig meat, and one in dog guts. The good masters will lay bets and see which one is preferred."

If the tiger was anything like a dragon, he would eat them all, starting with the biggest and finishing with the smallest. No one wanted an unsatisfactory meal after all.

The pails contained the materials the boys were to be rolled in. Rhaenys tugged at Aegon's arm. "Can't we stop this?"

"I don't see how."

He was thinking furiously, trying to work something out, but nothing was coming to mind. In the pit below, all three boys were now weeping. The middle sized one wailed for his mummy.

They were only children.

Slave children, who did nothing except be born to the wrong parents.

The pails were carried out. The Good Masters leant forward, eagerly awaiting the spectacle. Jaedos hissed hungrily. Aegon rubbed his chin. A large cage was wheeled into the pit. Inside, a large, though thin and mangy looking tiger prowled back and forth.

The keeping of slaves had been considered normal in Valyria. Many thousands had died in the mines. That practise had been spread throughout the freehold, and ran especially strong in cities like this one.

Aegon never thought about it.

It was as it was.

This though...

This wasn't just applying labour, or a service.

This was barbarism, even more so than the Dothraki.

The cage was opened from afar by two slaves and pulled away. The tiger leapt out, snarling and growling. The three boys whimpered and clung to each other, wide eyed and fouling themselves with fear.

* * *

When she closed her eyes, Visenya saw the dead coming back to life.

When he closed his eyes, Aegon saw ice creeping across already snowy ground.

When she closed her eyes, Rhaenys saw white snow in the red desert.

* * *

The tiger leapt at the boys, who scattered, each trying to push another forward, which only resulted in the smallest falling to the ground and the biggest tripping over him as the third boy fled across the ring.

_We had our lives. Why are we back?_

_We must be here for a reason._

The tiger snarled.

Aegon leapt to his feet.

The tiger encroached on the boys.

Aegon started running.

The tiger opened its mouth.

Aegon sprang over the edge of the balcony.

The tiger leapt-

Aegon landed with a soft thud in the sand in front of the boys, Blackfyre in his hand.

\- the tiger bellowed as pain exploded through its side, the valyrian steel slicing through fur and flesh and muscle as easy as paper. It landed to one side, snarling at the source of the pain. Here in this hot sand was where it usually got a meal, not more pain! The human snarled back, the winged lizard on his shoulder screeching a challenge. The tiger's feet pounded against the sand and launched him forward-

and the blade cut through its neck, the corpse falling the ground with a resolute thump.

Silence fell.

The boys gaped up at him, streaked with tears and blood and dirt and other undesirable body products. Jaedos trilled happily and sprang upon the tiger's corpse with his sisters, roasting the meat and feasting happily on it. Aegon wiped the blade clean on its flank. "This show is over."

One of the Masters stumbled to his feet. "This is an outrage! Does the damned sunset savage not know how much that beast cost?"

"Such barbarians should never have been permitted inside our great city's walls," agreed another.

"They're no better than those puny beasts of theirs!"

"We're not the ones feeding children to wild beasts," Rhaenys muttered to Visenya in Dothraki. Her sister grunted an agreement.

"My great Master asks if you know how much the tiger cost," said the translator.

"Tell your great Master we don't care," Visenya spat.

Rhaenys stood. "We're leaving."

No one stopped them.

* * *

They talked and debated long into the night.

They could sell their slaves here, buy ships, and have done with it.

They could move on to Yunkai, sell their slaves and buy ships there.

They could declare war on the city – the Dothraki would love that – but the Unsullied would be a problem.

Visenya wanted to burn the city to the ground, which seemed impractical.

Aegon wanted to start a fight.

Rhaenys wanted them both to calm down and be patient.

By the morning they had a plan.

(and when they slept rhaenys saw a red wolf cub, stronger now, chasing a larger wolf through a field of wheat; aegon saw the tiny black dragon wrapped in chains and dragged through the snow; visenya saw a raven with a broken wing struggling to battle against a snowstorm, while in the shadows another raven waited with eyes like blood.


	6. V: Ashes of Morality

**Author's Note**

I do not own Game of Thrones.

* * *

Rhaenys was half surprised that they were allowed back into the city after last night's debacle. If one asked her, the Valyrians should have burned the shithole to the ground when they had the chance and left nothing behind of Old Ghis. There were Unsullied atop every wall. People moved to avoid them. Their Dothraki bloodriders stayed close.

They met with Nakloz in a large, central courtyard. A few of the other so called 'Great Masters' were with him. Several hundred Unsullied were lined up in front of him.

"So they dare return."

"The Great Master Kraznys is pleased to see you," said his translator. Rhaenys smiled brightly.

"Tell the Great Master we're grateful for him receiving us after my brother's performance last night."

She translated and Nakloz laughed and shook his head.

"Ask the Westerosi Savage what he wants for those pathetic excuses for slaves he brings us."

"My Master Kraznys asks what you ask for in payment for the slaves you bring," said the translator.

Aegon glanced around the courtyard. "I want the Unsullied."

And ships, they'd need ships, but they'd get to that. The Unsullied were an army, and a means to an end.

"Master Kraznys asks how many you desire."

"All."

The translator gaped at him. "All? Did this one's ears mishear your grace?"

"No. We want to buy them all."

Rhaenys smiled, flashing her teeth at the translator. She was only about their age now, she considered, pretty.

"There are eight thousand Unsullied in Astapor. Is this what you mean by all?"

"Yes. Eight thousand. As well as the boys still in training."

One of the other Masters began to shake his head. "If they fail on the battlefield they will bring shame to Astapor."

The girl translated it into Dothraki. Aegon smiled. "We will take them all or have none. I expect many will fall in the war to come."

Nakloz waved his hand. "The Dothraki savages cannot pay for this. The slaves they bring will buy one hundred, and that to stop their whining."

She translated the latter half as 'because Master Kraznys is generous.'

"What gold and goods they have will buy them one, as the rest will be needed to replace the beast they slaughtered."

Visenya snarled and Aegon squeezed her wrist warningly.

"Ask the Dothraki savages how they propose to pay for the remaining seven thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine."

Aegon held his arm out. Jaedos perched there, whipping his tail back and forth. Rhaenys smiled at the thought of him trying to do that with Balerion.

"We have dragons. We'll give you one."

As they predicted, the deal was struck.

Unsullied were called in from all around Astapor, gathering in ordered units in the square.

Eight thousand.

Eight thousand slaves, eight thousand boys taken violently from their homes like they were, and, probably, eight thousand men to send to their deaths.

They conquered Westeros with less, far less.

(but it wasnt a case of conquering this time round and they were pretty sure they werent here for that)

Nakloz shoved the gilded gold whip at Aegon. He grasped it in one hand and with the other drew Blackfyre, slicing violently through the man's neck before any of those around could react.

The body crumpled to the ground, the head rolling down the slope. His translator went a rather funny colour.

Aegon held the whip aloft. "Kill the Masters! Kill the soldiers! Kill any man or woman who carries a whip! Let the children live and strike the chains from any slave you meet! Secure the ships in the harbour!"

They charged as one. One of the other Masters waved a whip, screaming 'I am your master, I am your master!'

Visenya cut him down. He was incredibly annoying.

Rhaenys turned to Nakloz's frozen translator. "Hold still."

The poor girl looked like she couldn't have moved if she wanted to. Rhaenys reached up and unfastened her collar.

"Do you have a name?"

"This one's name is Missandei, your grace."

Rhaenys let her collar fall to her feet. "Come with us Missandei."

* * *

It was all over in a matter of hours. The dusty red streets of Astapor were stained scarlet with blood. Jaedos, Starflame and Drogar feasted on some of the dead, roasting the bodies with their flames and sinking their fangs into them.

(and at the back of aegon's mind he recalled doing the same and the taste of hot coppery flesh in his mouth)

He stood in front of the Unsullied army. Some looked a little worse for wear now, their shining armour scuffed from the brief battle. He climbed the city steps to overlook the gathered army. Visenya and Rhaenys were riding along the columns at either side. Rhaenys had taken Nazlok's former translator as one of her handmaidens and she stood waiting by the city wall.

"You have been slaves all your lives! But today you are free!"

Eight thousand men gazed back at him. The silence was deafening.

"Any man who wishes to leave may leave, no man will harm him! If you fight for me, you will fight not only men, but monsters not of flesh and blood."

(creatures of ice, ice and cold and death)

"Will you fight for me? As free men?"

The silence continued at first.

And then one of the men took up a beat with his spear. It spread and spread, across every column and all the Unsullied. Approval.


	7. VI: Let Morning Come Soon

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

I do not own A Game of Thrones.

* * *

Astapor had a small navy of only twenty ships, and twenty more docked in the harbour. Of those in the harbour, eight were privately owned trading vessels that wanted nothing more than to get away from the chaos. They claimed half the valuables and let them leave. Four of the remaining twelve were battleships intended to defend Astapor, and eight were privately owned by the former Great Masters or Astaporian trade vessels.

"We could go home," Rhaenys murmured wistfully, running her hand over the brow of one ship.

"Thirty two ships wouldn't carry much of the army."

"But we could take Dragonstone," Visenya pointed out. "With some time for the dragons to grow, between them and the ships and the Unsullied…"

They could take Dragonstone.

They could go home.

"It wouldn't just be about taking it though. We'd have to keep it."

And that, they all knew, would be the harder part. Dragonstone was a fortress intended to be defended – but they only had twelve ships, and they'd need some of them to bring the army across, since twelve ships would never carry eight thousand men at once.

And that wasn't even counting the Dothraki.

They'd have to take the Dothraki horde across in one go, or one of them would have to stay behind to lead them. Otherwise Dothraki culture stated someone else would take over as Khal.

Visenya sighed heavily, gazing out to sea. Their home was out there, somewhere, in the hands of the traitor Baratheons.

"We need more ships."

"The next city from here is Yunkai," Aegon said. Another slaver's city on the coast.

"They will have ships."

Rhaenys scratched Starflame's head.

"And the dragons do need more time to grow."

At this size they could fight no enemies, except maybe a large dog. They certainly couldn't wage war against the monsters of the ice and snow.

"We could still send men ahead," Visenya said. Aegon frowned.

"I think that would go noticed sweet-sister."

"Not to Dragonstone!"

"Ah."

"They'd have to be volunteers of course, for what they're letting themselves in for, but it would bolster numbers, even if just temporarily."

And their army was more than big enough now for them to spare a hundred volunteers if they could find them.

* * *

And when they slept that night Rhaenys dreamt of a little black wolf snarling at a huge black dog with half its fur burnt away; Aegon dreamt of a young dragon alone amongst a mass of human strangers, dragged along by chains; Visenya dreamt of a broken kraken in a puddle of bloodied water, thrashing and twitching uselessly.

They woke cold in the morning.

* * *

They spent two weeks in Astapor, establishing a new rulership of in the form of a council of a healer, a scholar and a priest and finding volunteers amongst the Unsullied to go ahead. After some discussion, they also found three hundred and twenty of the Unsullied soldiers willing to remain in Astapor to defend the city. Counting the boys who had still been in training there was nearer ten thousand of them, so numbers were of no issue, and many of the slaves they had taken with the Dothraki were also to be left in Astapor. They had no need for slaves anymore.

"We gave you your freedom," Aegon said, "but it's up to you to keep it. You are free men now, and you have the right to fight to keep that!"

The response they got was better than any response they ever received in Westeros.

If they failed in their duty, he considered, they could always come back here.

(but then if they failed in their duty they would likely be dead and the entire world facing the cold)

* * *

They rode out for Yunkai with the Dothraki and the Unsullied at their backs. Six of their ships sailed for Westeros with four hundred and fifty Unsullied volunteers aboard.

"We can't say what awaits you there," Rhaenys had told them.

"They may not accept you."

"It could be certain death."

"If you wish for us to defend your Kingdoms then it shall be done," said the Officer that had volunteered, and so they set sail.

All they needed now was more ships, ships and time for their dragons to grow, time that they might not have.

(and the information that made it back to westeros said that they had hatched dragons in the dothraki sea and were as savage as the dothraki horde they rode with, that they ransacked the city and left ruins and rubble in their wake)


	8. VII: The Weight of Life

**Author's Note**

I do not own A Game of Thrones.

* * *

Astapor had a small navy of only twenty ships, and twenty more docked in the harbour. Of those in the harbour, eight were privately owned trading vessels that wanted nothing more than to get away from the chaos. They claimed half the valuables and let them leave. Four of the remaining twelve were battleships intended to defend Astapor, and eight were privately owned by the former Great Masters or Astaporian trade vessels.

"We could go home," Rhaenys murmured wistfully, running her hand over the brow of one ship.

"Thirty two ships wouldn't carry much of the army."

"But we could take Dragonstone," Visenya pointed out. "With some time for the dragons to grow, between them and the ships and the Unsullied…"

They could take Dragonstone.

They could go home.

"It wouldn't just be about taking it though. We'd have to keep it."

And that, they all knew, would be the harder part. Dragonstone was a fortress intended to be defended – but they only had twelve ships, and they'd need some of them to bring the army across, since twelve ships would never carry eight thousand men at once.

And that wasn't even counting the Dothraki.

They'd have to take the Dothraki horde across in one go, or one of them would have to stay behind to lead them. Otherwise Dothraki culture stated someone else would take over as Khal.

Visenya sighed heavily, gazing out to sea. Their home was out there, somewhere, in the hands of the traitor Baratheons.

"We need more ships."

"The next city from here is Yunkai," Aegon said. Another slaver's city on the coast.

"They will have ships."

Rhaenys scratched Starflame's head.

"And the dragons do need more time to grow."

At this size they could fight no enemies, except maybe a large dog. They certainly couldn't wage war against the monsters of the ice and snow.

"We could still send men ahead," Visenya said. Aegon frowned.

"I think that would go noticed sweet-sister."

"Not to Dragonstone!"

"Ah."

"They'd have to be volunteers of course, for what they're letting themselves in for, but it would bolster numbers, even if just temporarily."

And their army was more than big enough now for them to spare a hundred volunteers if they could find them.

* * *

And when they slept that night Rhaenys dreamt of a little black wolf snarling at a huge black dog with half its fur burnt away; Aegon dreamt of a young dragon alone amongst a mass of human strangers, dragged along by chains; Visenya dreamt of a broken kraken in a puddle of bloodied water, thrashing and twitching uselessly.

They woke cold in the morning.

* * *

They spent two weeks in Astapor, establishing a new rulership of in the form of a council of a healer, a scholar and a priest and finding volunteers amongst the Unsullied to go ahead. After some discussion, they also found three hundred and twenty of the Unsullied soldiers willing to remain in Astapor to defend the city. Counting the boys who had still been in training there was nearer ten thousand of them, so numbers were of no issue, and many of the slaves they had taken with the Dothraki were also to be left in Astapor. They had no need for slaves anymore.

"We gave you your freedom," Aegon said, "but it's up to you to keep it. You are free men now, and you have the right to fight to keep that!"

The response they got was better than any response they ever received in Westeros.

If they failed in their duty, he considered, they could always come back here.

(but then if they failed in their duty they would likely be dead and the entire world facing the cold)

* * *

They rode out for Yunkai with the Dothraki and the Unsullied at their backs. Six of their ships sailed for Westeros with four hundred and fifty Unsullied volunteers aboard.

"We can't say what awaits you there," Rhaenys had told them.

"They may not accept you."

"It could be certain death."

"If you wish for us to defend your Kingdoms then it shall be done," said the Officer that had volunteered, and so they set sail.

All they needed now was more ships, ships and time for their dragons to grow, time that they might not have.

(and the information that made it back to westeros said that they had hatched dragons in the dothraki sea and were as savage as the dothraki horde they rode with, that they ransacked the city and left ruins and rubble in their wake)


End file.
